“You are impossible.”
“Maybe, but I assure you that I feel likeweare very possible. Probable. Certain even.” Isabeau unwinds the long leather strap that protected my arm from shoulder to wrist. When she reaches the end, she says, “Hold this. I have a future bride to seduce.”
I laugh, but I still comply, curious about her intention as Isabeau makes short work of the other strap of my armor. “I cannot think about marriage. I want you in my bed, in my life, but I cannot think about forever right now.”
Ignoring my words, Isabeau tosses the ends that I don’t hold over the wall and loops them around a post. “I like this armor.”
I feel foolish holding the ends of the leather protective garb in my hands. “Do you want these, too?”
“My innocent love.” Isabeau takes them and wraps the leather around my wrists several times like manacles.
I allow it. I’m not sure what she intends, but I am intrigued. “Agree that you will not try to tell me I cannot hunt when you aren’t with me.”
“I will not. Iwillworry, love. You cannot ask me to stop worrying,” she says, pausing to stare into my eyes.
“Worry is acceptable.”
“May I unwrap your legs, Gabrielle?”
“Yes ...? I don’t understand why my wrists are held fast.” I glance at them.
She chuckles. “You said I could ravish you.” Isabeau caresses my cheek. “After I saw you fight that first time in the park, I decided I would dance with each noblewoman until I found you. I thought I finally found someone to replace you in my heart ... only to findyouagain.”
“Isa.”
“Imagine my surprise. My mystery woman wasstill you, the same woman I’ve craved for a decade.” Isabeau kisses the edge of my mouth. “You are the only one. No matter how many women I kissed, they were not the one I needed. They weren’t you.”
For a moment I say nothing. Then, I admit, “I hated them. I hated you sometimes.”
“I am sorry I didn’t fight for us. I never felt like I wasenoughfor you, and when your father said you told him to send me away ...”
“I wept that you never offered for me.”
“But I did. I am. I always will be here, a supplicant hoping for your love.” Isabeau drops to her haunches and begins to unwrap the leather that curls around my legs. She pauses to press kisses to my skin. When she reaches the top, she brushes her knuckles over the juncture of my thighs.
“You have it. My love. My body. My heart.”
“Do I?” Isabeau straightens. “I want you to hold on to these straps, love. If you can’t obey, I cannot please you.” She directs my hands over my head. “Look how your breasts stand up to greet me.”
“Isabeau . . .”
“I want you to know that you belong to me, as much as I belong to you,” Isabeau says, voice louder now. She leans down and drags her teeth over my nipples.
I gasp.
Isabeau nips the curve of my breast, my throat, the other breast. Each scrape of teeth makes me squirm and arch. “Did Girard make you sound like that, Gabrielle? He spoke to you so familiarly. It was him, was it not? You admitted to a lover ...”
“An unsatisfactory one,” I remind her.
“Did he make you sound desperate?”
“No.”
“Good.” Isabeau looks proud. “Do you like my teeth on you?”
“Yes. Do you like that, too?”
“Later, if you want, you can find out.” Isabeau holds my gaze as she lowers her hand to slip under my skirt. My eyes roll back as Isabeau slides her fingertips over the now wet flesh between my legs.
